


Cash or Credit

by carolej126



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Family, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-04-01 18:06:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4029556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolej126/pseuds/carolej126
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Originally published in Road Trip With My Brother 10 (Agent With Style, 2010)</p>
<p>Sam heads out to get some pie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cash or Credit

“What took you so long?” 

Sam sighed, tossing a brown paper bag in Dean’s direction and shrugging out of his jacket. 

“And where’s my pie?”

“No pie.” 

“What do you mean, no pie?” 

“Dean, by the time I got out of there, they didn’t have any pie left.”

“But what took you so long?” Dean asked again. “You’ve been gone for…” He checked his watch. “… four hours. It doesn’t take four hours to stop by the library and then pick up burgers and fries.” A mournful expression on his face, he dumped their dinner on the table before adding, “or pie.” 

Sam dropped into a chair, sliding it closer to the table, and unwrapped his burger. “I was gone for four hours because I had to pay for this food.”

Dean popped a fry in his mouth, chewing noisily. “It doesn’t take four hours to pay for dinner.”

“It does if your credit card doesn’t go through, and you don’t have any cash on you.”

“Why didn’t you just give them another-“

“Yeah, like that would work,” Sam cut in sarcastically. “Especially since the cards would have different names on them.” 

Dean raised his eyebrows. “Oh, yeah.” 

“’Sides, they were already suspicious enough. I thought for a minute they were going to call the cops.” He paused. “But they didn’t.”

“So, what’d you do?”

“What do you think I did? I washed dishes. I wiped down tables. I took out the trash.” Sam’s voice got louder with each word. “For four hours.” He scratched at the back of one hand. “And now I’ve got dishpan hands.”

Dean choked on a bite of his burger. “You,” he finally got out, ”You sound like a housewife in some 50’s sitcom.” He laughed. “Dishpan hands.”

“Hey, you should be thanking me. I worked my butt off for a couple hours, just so we could have dinner. Next time, you pick up the food.”

Dean grinned. “No problem. I’ll just pick a restaurant with a really hot waitress, and…“ 

“Shut up, Dean,” Sam sighed, rolling his eyes. 

~end~


End file.
